Meeting an Irish Legend

Wednesday is usually a busy one with a songwriter spending the day with us discussing their approach, playing some songs and us in turn playing some of ours - some finished songs and also perhaps something we’re working on or maybe starting on something from scratch.  Having had a visit earlier in the week from Chris Wood, and with the visit on Thursday from Jake Clemons, we had a free day this Wednesday.

I did go in for a couple of hours and went to a workshop on critical writing and after that, thought about trying out another pitch for busking - between the college and home.  Not good.  When I pulled into the car park, there was a very loud continuous noise which turned out to be emanating
from a generator outside the chip shop.  There were still many power outages following the hurricane Ophelia.

I checked the weather forecast for Killaloe - about 12 miles the other side of where I’m staying and it looked okay so, after stopping by the house for a quick lunch, I headed out there although, when I came out to the car, is was wet and there was a fine rain falling - the sort that gets you wet without you noticing it’s happening.

To busk or not to busk?  I checked the forecast again and Killaloe looked good until about 6 and, as the forecast for the weekend looks like more of what we had on Monday, it looked like I might not have another chance to play in the coming days so off I went - with some reading material with me as a back up plan.  For most of the way there, the wipers were busy on my windscreen but a couple of miles short of my destination, while it didn’t exactly brighten up, the rain took a rest.

It was still a 'do I or don’t I?'  situation as the weather seemed to be moving in my direction but after about 10 minutes, I let Clara out of the car and got out my guitar and some CDs.  

Wandering Minstrel - perhaps from 2004 

I noticed a man, distinguished and vaguely familiar looking, leading and elderly looking dog.  He wasn't  far from where I intended  playing and before I got to open my case, he came over to admire Clara - mistaking her for a young golden retriever.  I explained that, while she had the gentle nature of the retriever, she had the brains of a collie and would rarely even acknowledge retrievers but would run with collies all day, in spite of her bad hips.  He was surprised when I told him that she was almost thirteen and I was just as surprised when he told  me that his dog was not yet three.

The conversation moved on the what I was doing in Limerick and then he told me he’d written a few ‘rubbishy’ songs himself.  He did say though, that one of them did result in a reasonable cheque a couple of time a year.  ‘Would I know it?’, I asked and, when he told me the title, I said, ‘Cormac!’.  The beard was more Van Dyke now than Santa Cause but I realised now why he'd struck me a familiar.

Cormac McConnell is the brother of Micky who paid his mortgage with what he earned form royalties for ‘When Only the Rivers Run Free’.  Both he and Cormac had worked as newspaper men all of their lives.  Micky still plays regularly at John B. Keane’s Bar in Lisstowel and Cormac had also been a presenter on Clare FM.  It must be about 15 years ago that I was last a guest on his show and he knew me once I said, ‘Sean O’Neill - Wandering Minstrel’.  He told me he was still doing a column in a couple of papers - including an online New York  one.

I suggested he might like to do an interview some time and he said, ‘I just have.’

Cormac went off with his little dog and I got only about 45 minutes of busking done before the rain got serious but headed for home, happy I’d made the trip.

Here is Cormac’s song sung here by his brother, Micky;